


Hold The Line

by sum_nemo



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, M/M, Minor Character Death, Science Fiction, Slow Burn, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-06-02 11:01:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19440112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sum_nemo/pseuds/sum_nemo
Summary: "Look, I can’t possibly be your first choice. I haven’t been in the Conn-Pod of a Jaeger in five years.”Marshal Nutter sighed. Her stiff body posture softened just the slightest as she said, “You’re the only Mark-Three pilot left.”Crowley visibly startled at this information. He thought back to the men and women he’d gone through training with and felt his eyes begin to sting. He felt himself reaching for the sunglasses he kept in his jacket pocket, then stopped himself.“The world is coming to an end. I’ve got scientists who think they can predict the date and time when more Kaiju than we can handle will come through the Breach. The question becomes where do you want to die, Crowley?”N.B. There is no need to be familiar with the 2013 film Pacific Rim to understand this fic.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while since I've written fic, but I have been so inspired and excited by the Good Omens fandom, I found myself writing again.

A lanky red haired man climbed up a ladder, reaching for the highest fruit on the tree. He was focused entirely on his goal, the apples in front of him. He looked around, and, not seeing anyone else around, he took a bite of the expensive fruit. Before, apples had been fairly cheap. Many things had been affordable, then. 

The air was fresh, the sweet scent from the apple lingered. Looking around again, the man finished eating the apple, core and all, leaving only the seeds. He returned to his original task, picking the fruit from the tree quickly, taking no time to enjoy the bright green around him. He adjusted his sunglasses, and worked until the sky grew dark. He heard the pickup truck came along the rows, ready to collect the fruit he had gathered. 

“Crowley,” he heard his supervisor call up to him in Polish, “you have a visitor waiting at the apartments.” 

Crowley scrambled down the ladder and asked, “Who?” His English accent leaking through even in such short words. 

“Someone military,” was the reply. His supervisor, an older man with blond, graying hair shrugged, and gestured to the pickup truck, “I’ll drive you back.”

Crowley raised his eyebrows in surprise. Usually he, like many of the other workers on the orchard, waited until another truck came by to pick them up after all the apples had been collected. 

The older man turned on the radio and listened silently. Crowley’s Polish had improved a lot over the last five years, enough so that he could understand the news report the man had chosen to listen to.

> “…the Kaiju Bladehead broke through the Coastal Wall in just under an hour. Casualties number in the thousands, and the Miami Metropolitan Area is being evacuated. Residents are being moved inland. United States government authorities have no information at this time as to where, or how they will resettle the over 6 million people living in the area.”

Crowley closed his eyes and resisted the urge to turn the radio off, knowing it wouldn’t go over well. He opened the truck’s window and inhaled the fresh air deeply, trying to banish the scent of salt water rising up from his memories. Trees upon trees passed by as he did his best to tune out the report that continued on. His supervisor swore under his breath. Crowley looked over at him and saw distress painted across his features. 

> “It was the recently decommissioned Mark-Four Jaeger Duke Butcher which was still in the area, piloted by Captains Hastur and Ligur, that was ultimately able to take down the Kaiju. Duke Butcher is due to be shipped out to the Portsmouth Shatterdome later this week. As of yet, nobody at the UN has responded to our questions about the failure of the Coastal Wall."

They approached the residences that seasonal workers lived in, metal prefabricated homes, barely larger than a trailer and split into tiny rooms, Crowley looked around for signs of who could possibly have come all this way to see him. He could feel his stomach turn as he thought about the limited options of who it could be. He began reciting an impressive number of swear words under his breath when he saw who it was. [1] There was a Jeep out in front of the apartments with the United Nations logo on it. Leaning against it were two uniformed men and standing tall in front of them was a woman in a sharp grey suit. She was older than the men, probably on the other side of fifty. Her long hair was pulled back into a tight bun. Sharp eyebrows raised as she saw the pickup truck approach. Crowley sighed and got out of the truck. 

“Marshal Nutter,” he called out, plastering what he hoped was a smarmy smile on his face. 

She raised a hand in greeting and replied, “Anthony J. Crowley, it’s been a long time. Do you have time to talk?”

Crowley looked around, and saw that his supervisor staring at him. He looked back at the Marshal and said, “Let's take this inside, shall we?”

Crowley pulled out his key and opened the door to his small apartment. Behind the curtain was a shower and toilet, a sink and a small counter with a hot plate were directly in front of the door. He unfolded the chair leaning against the wall and set it down facing the bed, which he then sat on. The Marshal stepped into the apartment, leaving the two guards outside. 

“Welcome to my humble abode, make yourself comfortable,” Crowley said, gesturing to the chair in front of him.

She did not sit down as she said, “Have you heard the news?”

Crowley nodded, and said, “Heard it on the way over. It was a good show of how much security that wall can provide,” he shrugged, “anyone who is surprised has never seen a Kaiju in action.”

“You’ve seen them in action before, close and personal. You could see that again,” Marshal Nutter replied, still standing. She looked only at Crowley, ignoring the many photographs pinned behind him on the wall.

“I doubt that. Eden Tango is with all the other fallen Jaegers in Oblivion Bay, and they’re not making Jaegers anymore,” Crowley said dismissively. He glanced over at his hydroponic garden, in the small windowsill behind his sink. He didn’t look at the Marshal as she replied to him.

“She was repaired as part of the Mark-Three restoration program. She needs a pilot.”

“She needs two pilots and my copilot died. Bringing her to shore nearly killed me,” Crowley said bitterly, “I can hardly pilot her on my own a second time.”

“You won’t need to. We can find you a new copilot, it’s easier once you’ve drifted with someone else to drift with a new partner.” Marshal Nutter continued, the barest hint of regret forming on her features. 

Crowley looked around, wondering if he could possibly get away with taking a swig of the cheap bootleg he had stashed under his bed. 

“Look, I can’t possibly be your first choice. I haven’t been in the Conn-Pod of a Jaeger in five years.”

Marshal Nutter sighed. Her stiff body posture softened just the slightest as she said, “You’re the only Mark-Three pilot left.”

Crowley visibly startled at this information. He thought back to the men and women he’d gone through training with and felt his eyes begin to sting. He felt himself reaching for the sunglasses he kept in his jacket pocket, then stopped himself.

“The world is coming to an end. I’ve got scientists who think they can predict the date and time when more Kaiju than we can handle will come through . The question becomes where do you want to die, Crowley?” Any hint of regret or compassion was gone from her face. Her eyes were sharp as she asked the question. Crowley wanted to break eye contact with her, to look anywhere else, but he found he could not. After a pause, he finally looked away.

“I still have pieces of Lilith left in my head,” he said, voice quiet, “We were still connected when she died.”

“I know. You two had remarkable synergy, even for siblings. She was a good woman, a great pilot,” Marshal Nutter’s shoulders softened for a moment, her eyes belying her steely resolve. She looked sad, though unlike Crowley, her eyes remained dry.

There was a long silence that stretched on and on. Crowley looked over at a framed picture he kept on his bedside table of him with a red haired woman, in matching leather jackets with matching grins. Her hair was darker than his, her eyes a dark shade of brown, in contrast with his lighter hazel. She’d had freckles, a wide smile, full lips, and a more prominent nose than Crowley. They both took after their mother, making it hard to tell they’d had different fathers. They stood shoulder to shoulder, the same height, leaning against each other. The photo had been taken the day they succeeded their first drift, they’d shared minds so successfully they had been selected to continue on in the Jaeger pilot training.

“What good will it do?” Crowley said, looking at the photo, then back at the Marshal, “there aren’t enough Jaegers left to keep the entire world safe. They’ve stopped building them, the world powers have given up, and chosen instead to cower behind a wall. They’ll all die, and we’ll die with them.”

“We’re not banking on you protecting the entire world. Just protect another Jaeger long enough for it to get into the breach between our world and that of the Kaiju.”

Crowley thought back on his last time in a Jaeger. He remembered in detail waking up in the Lisbon Shatterdome, his mission to protect coastlines along the Atlantic where the breach had opened ten years ago. Lilith had been inspecting the garden they kept in their shared bunk. Jaeger Pilots at the time had shared bunks regardless of gender in the hope that it helped further their compatibility in the drift. Crowley had been lying down, one arm over his eyes trying to nap. He thought back on how cocky they’d both been as the alarm went off, indicating a Kaiju was heading their way. She’d smiled, they’d donned their matching jackets and they half ran from the barracks to the Shatterdome. 

They’d suited up in their Drivesuits, the under layer tight as a wetsuit, wires running across each part of the fabric connecting their bodies to the control mechanisms of the Jaeger. A team of people pieced together a layer of a white polycarbonate armor on top of the circuitry, protecting the pilots from external damage and providing life support functions. The suits were designed to allow for a high level of mobility, something Crowley greatly appreciated. The final touch was a section along the back, the spinal clamp, mirroring their spinal chords, connecting their nervous system to the Jaeger’s. Each movement they made, the Jaeger would mirror it, Crowley in charge of the left side of the Jaeger and Lilith controlling the right. Crowley remembered laughing with Lilith, prepared to fight and expecting to win. They’d walked with a swagger in their step, stepping into the Conn-Pod holding their helmets at their sides. His eyes glazed over as he recalled her laughing as he teased her about how she was going to over share about the date she’d been on the week before.

A knock on the door shook Crowley out of his memory. The Marshal looked impatiently over at the door as a voice loudly said in polish, “Crowley, we need to talk about your numbers. You’re falling behind.”

Crowley looked at the door, then at the Marshal. 

“Is this how you want to end your life Crowley?” She asked gently. Crowley took a breath, then loudly replied to the voice outside, “It won’t be a problem. I quit.”

The flight to Portsmouth was long and quiet, with the Marshal focused on her work throughout. Crowley was left to his own thoughts, his small suitcase of belongings stored below his seat. With a rising sense of dread he thought on the possibility of attacking the Breach, the wormhole to another universe where the Kaiju originated[2]. Crowley closed his eyes and did his best to sleep. When he had first lost Lilith, he’d been in the care of the Pan Atlantic Defense Corps, and he’d been given an alpha blocker to help keep nightmares at bay. 

While he’d been in England, he hadn’t had to pay for them. The looming disaster of the Kaiju was not yet so costly that England hadn't yet started austerity measures[3]. Leaving for Poland, as many people had, he’d lost that drug coverage. What remained of Polish state funded health coverage certainly did not extend to non-citizens. So, in short, Crowley had left peaceful nights behind when he’d left the PADC. The dreams were not consistent in when they happened, nor for how long. As time passed their frequency diminished somewhat. Yet, like many of the terrible effects of the Kaiju’s invasions, the impact of his final fight lingered beyond anyone’s control. 

The dreams started and stopped at different places of the night Scythefist attacked. This time, it started right at the beginning. Waking up, walking past Eden Tango, the giant mechanical suit painted a verdant green, easy to spot from the air, joking in the elevator to the highest point in the Shatterdome, being suited up by a team of technicians, watching one of them linger near Lilith. He had grinned at Lilith and she smiled back, a perfect mirror of his own expression. 

The Conn-Pod, inside the head of the Jaeger, was a small round room, with the front half covered in white and blue display screens, providing information about the Jaeger. They’d fitted their feet into the pedals on the floor, connected the spinal clamps in their suits into the Jaeger’s system and connected their arms to the controls for the Eden Tango’s arms. He’d heard over the intercom the voice of the lead of LOCCENT Mission Control confirm their readiness. And then there was the countdown to initiating the Drift.

Drifting was like nothing else Crowley had experienced. In his dreams, if he was lucky, he would wake up right after the drift began and let the feeling of connection linger even as he felt the painful loneliness of separation. Today, his dream continued on. His mind flashed over the memories of Lilith’s date with a new member of the drivesuit support team. They’d been enamored with Lilith from the get go, and Lilith had though life is short to say no to a chance at getting to know someone interesting.[4] Crowely had said, “Do they know you can’t help but kiss and tell?”

“Oh, I made that clear,” Lilith had replied. The voice over the intercom announced the success of the neural handshake, then said, “There’s no time for gossip. Scythefist is approaching the shore. You’ve got to get to it before it makes landfall.” Then the Conn-Pod was dropping down, connecting to Eden Tango. Helicopters carried them out into the Atlantic Ocean. A large, moving mass appeared on their radar after they’d been dropped into the sea. Together, they marched the Jaeger towards it.

Crowley’s memories pulled up the images on the Conn-Pod screen. Pushing through the sea towards was a large, grayish blue creature. It’s eyes were neon blue, the open maw showed a vibrantly blue tongue and inner mouth. It walked on its hind legs, steadied by a large tail that whipped in and out of the ocean. Its two claws and its tail all ended in curved blades, enormous and sharp. Crowley could feel Lilith’s excitement, her anticipation for the fight at hand. As he readied the plasma cannon, she cocked her fist ready for the fight as they ran in sync towards the beast. He felt the Jaeger shake upon impact, the dual adrenaline rush coursing through their nervous systems. 

The creature’s tail swung around, latching onto the right arm of the Jaeger, the sharp hooked claw at the end of the tail pulling at the elbow, slowly cutting into the wiring. Crowley quickly swung his arm up as Lilith began to think the instruction to do so, and pressed the gun against the tail and fired. The tail severed from the Kaiju, the wound burned closed by the heat of the plasma blast. Lilith readied her arm to strike again, as Crowley withdrew the left arm of the Jaeger, preparing the gun to fire again. Eden Tango’s right hand slammed into the head of the Kaiju as its claws closed down on the shoulders of the machine. Sparks flew inside the Conn-Podd as the claws slid towards the Jaeger’s neck, and the Conn-Podd the pilots stood in.[5]

His dream continued, Lilith yelled instructions to him, and he yelled back affirmatives. They blasted Scythefist in the chest, then smashed Eden Tango’s fist into his jaw. The Kaiju went down, sinking into the water. Lilith and Crowley breathed hard, watching as the minutes ticked by and the creature did not rise. The Kaiju’s vital signs didn’t register on their display, and soon they heard from the command center, “It looks like it’s down. Good job pilots, it’s time to head home.” 

They turned around, and began to talk to shore. As they walked away, their sensors flared to life, the vital signs of the Kaiju returning. Before they could turn around, it was on them, lunging out of the water and hooking both claws around Eden Tango’s shoulders. Lilith turned to look at Crowley, and he could hear her thoughts forming as she began a plan to blast Scythefist’s mouth - but before that thought could turn into words, the claw broke through the Con-Pod and dragged Lilith out into the ocean. 

Crowley felt the wind sucked out of her lungs as she was hit. He could feel her hitting the water, salt water filling her lungs. He couldn’t get the smell of salt out of his lungs and he yelled, turning the Jaeger around. Scythefist drew back one claw, preparing for another strike and opened its mouth to yell. Crowley jammed the plasma cannon into the monster’s mouth. He held it there using Eden Tango’s free hand to push back against the claws swinging down from above. The strain from piloting Eden Tango alone pressed down on him. He could feel exhaustion creeping in as he fired the cannon. 

The monster dropped, but the loneliness remained: the feeling of Lilith torn from his mind, drawing, gasping for air only to take in more water, it pushed all else from his mind. His memories, like his dreams, faded out near the end, as the dream devolved into the intense pain of loss accompanied by the scent of seawater. He fell into a deeper sleep, dreamless once again.

When Crowley woke up, the plane was beginning its descent. He shivered despite the sweat on his forehead, the desolation lingering past the dream. His mind wandered to how he’d brought the Jaeger alone to the shore, something that had astounded the researchers who had come up with the drift technology. All their experiments had shown that the neural load was too great, that drifting alone risked permanent damage. They’d wanted him to stick around, to study how exactly he had done the impossible. He looked across at the Marshal. She stared back, her face a neutral mask, hiding any emotions.

Crowley looked out the window and saw the Shatterdome, the large building that housed Jaegers and all the personnel required to keep them running. The enormous cement building had doors that were multi-stories high, tall and wide enough for a Jaeger to be deployed directly from the Shatterdome. On the roof was a launchpad big enough for small aircraft to land. It looked identical to where Crowley had been based out of in Lisbon. 

“Are you fit to pilot?” Marshal Nutter asked. “If you can’t after what happened it’s better if I know now.”

“It’s just memories. I know how to keep control of those in the drift,” Crowley replied, defensively. “If I weren’t capable of it I would have just laid down and died. I wouldn’t have finished off Sycthefist.”

“It takes a lot to bear the neural load alone. I know that from experience,” the Marshal replied, and Crowley remembered she too had lost her copilot in battle, “but being able to bear the neural load is not the same as being able to control your memories enough to avoid chasing the rabbit down into a memory you can’t escape.”

“I won’t lose control,” Crowley said, feeling defiance. “I would never put another life at risk that way. I never had a problem before, I won’t now.”

The Marshal nodded, then returned to her paperwork as the plane landed. 

As they stepped off the plane, Crowley looked around and saw Kaiju body parts in enormous tanks being trekked across the tarmac on caterpillar tracked carts into the main building. A young dark haired woman, dressed in long skirts and a high necked blouse accompanied a rather nerdy looking man. His dark hair was plastered against his face in the rain and he implored those handling the tanks to be careful. The Marshal called out to someone, and Crowley turned, looking away from the tanks. A very familiar face with a white umbrella stood in front of him. The hand holding the umbrella moved to keep Crowley out of the rain. The arm, dressed in a light tan jacket, was attached to a man Crowley’s age with light hair, and blue eyes. He smiled, though there was a tightness to his smile. In one arm he held a book and a tablet.

“Crowley, it’s been a long time.” The man said. Crowley stared at him for a long moment, blinked, then said, “You’re here?”

“Yes, I am,” the blond man replied. The Marshal looked between the two of them and said, “It’s best if we all catch up inside.”

They walked towards the main building, and Crowley couldn’t help but say, “I wouldn’t have guessed I’d find you here Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale smiled at him, this time looking more genuine. He lowered the umbrella, and they stepped into a freight elevator. 

“In many ways I am surprised to find myself here,” he replied, shaking the water from the umbrella onto the floor.The Marshal watched the two of them and said nothing.

“I wouldn’t have thought you’d stick it out with the, you know, militaristic life. You always seemed more of a - a”

“A librarian, I suppose?” Aziraphale finished the sentence for Crowley with amusement, “I think hardly anyone gets the lifestyle they wanted for themselves from before K-Day. The world has changed, and we all had to change along with it. Besides, I’m hardly a pilot,” he said dismissively, “I help around here and there largely with personnel related issues. And, if I may be so bold, Marshal, since the funding was cut, we are going to start having personnel related issues around here soon,” he finished, turning to Marshal Nutter. 

“Either we’ll stop the Kaiju, or the world will end, Mr. Francis, either way it won’t be a problem for long,” the Marshal replied. Aziraphale handed the tablet he’d been holding over to the Marshal. 

“Here are all the candidates for tomorrow’s testing for compatibility with Mr. Crowley,” he looked over at Crowley after handing off the tablet. ”I hand selected them based on their personnel files and having interviewed them. The interviews, I think, were the more important part of the process. You’ve changed, since we knew each other last, I’m sure, but based on the files we had on you, the scans we had of your brain, etcetera, I am rather optimistic we will find you someone who is a good fit.”

Crowley resisted the urge to scowl. Or, he thought he did, but given the look exchanged by Aziraphale and Marshal Nutter he suspected he wasn’t as successful as he’d hoped. As they exited the elevator, the Marshal turned to Crowley and said, “I’ll leave you here, I have other work to do. I trust Mr. Francis can show you around.”

Crowley nodded, and the Marshal left. Crowley stood there, staring at Aziraphale while Aziraphale fidgeted with his sleeve cuffs. 

“I suppose you still don’t like your given name?” Aziraphale asked, and Crowley shrugged. 

“It’s just a name. I like Crowley better.”

“I’ll show you to your room, then, if you want, we can do a tour of the facilities?” Aziraphale offered. Crowley nodded, and followed him down a wide hallway with many large pipes running along the lower half of the cement walls. The center of the floors were metal grates, lit up from underneath, framed on each side by cement. The steel support beams were visible in parts of the gray cement ceilings, painted green and starting to rust. 

They turned into a hall with many doors, each four steps up from the ground. They walked halfway down the hall, and Aziraphale turned and walked up one of the short flights of stairs, his footfalls light against the metal under his feet. He pulled out a small fob and waved it in from of the door handle, and then opened the door. He turned around, holding out the fob and said, “this is for you,” and pointed across the hall, “I’m right across the hall, if you need anything I’d be happy to help.”

“Give me a bit to set up, then you can give me the grand tour,” Crowley said, lifting his suitcase and putting it on the bed. Aziraphale turned to leave. Crowley, eyes fixed on his suitcase, said, “You can stay, if you don’t have other things to do.”

“I’m yours for the day, my dear boy. The Marshal said I was to make you feel right at home,” Aziraphale replied brightly. 

Crowley looked over at him and raised his eyebrows, “I doubt she said that.”

“Those might not have been her exact words, but the sentiment remains,” Aziraphale replied, clasping his hands together in front of him. Crowley unzipped his luggage and began pulling out his limited belongings. Clothing, all of it tight and black - he’d left all of his work clothes behind, keeping only those clothes he liked. He put his clothes away, then pulled out his photographs. Many of them were framed, and those he scattered around his room. Aziraphale peered at one of the photos, it was one of Lilith as a teenager, sprawled out over a park bench. 

“Your sister was so fiercely herself, you know? I always admired that about her,” Aziraphale said, then cringed, “That is to say, um -”

“You can talk about her,” Crowley replied, then he cleared his throat, “People don’t often, but, you know, she existed. I’d rather that she be remembered.”

“I always did envy how close you two were,” Aziraphale said cautiously, “she always seemed very invested in making you laugh.”

“My father always thought she was a bad influence,” Crowley replied, “though, he married my mum, and she was always very explicit about the fact that she wanted Lilith to grow up a feminist and an activist. Shouldn’t have shocked him that’s what she turned into. A version of what my mum was like before she met him.”

“She was eight years older than you? I remember meeting her and thinking she was so cool, in a way my older brothers certainly were not.” Aziraphale said, “What with going to protests and dressing as she pleased.”

“Well, you already know my thoughts on your oh-so-well-adjusted siblings,”[6]Crowley replied with a sour look. He looked over at another picture, and Aziraphale followed his gaze. It was one taken at a park, Aziraphale was sitting next to Crowley, with Lilith lounging behind them. They’d been having a picnic; Lilith had made them all lunch. It had been taken sixteen years ago, Crowley remembered, when they were fifteen. 

“She was seven and a half years older,” Crowley continued, changing the topic back to his sister, “In two years, three months and four days I will be older than she ever was,” he said, continuing to unpack. He’d left his plants back in Poland, and for a long moment he looked around the room regretting it. He had no window; it wouldn’t have been a good place for them, but he missed them all the same.

“I’m so sorry, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, reaching out to touch his shoulder. Crowley stood still, resisting the urge to lean into his touch, to fall back into old habits. After a long moment, Crowley moved away and turned to look at Aziraphale. He pulled a pair of sunglasses out of his jacket pocket[7], and put them on.

“I’m done,” he said, and Aziraphale smiled his tight smile, “Let’s see if you can show me anything I haven’t seen before.”

“We can start with taking a look at the Jaegers. You can see how Eden Tango’s looking after her restoration.” Aziraphale replied, stepping out the door and down the stairs. Crowley followed, closing the door. 

The Jaeger holding bay was a feat of engineering. It was reminiscent of a sports stadium in terms of size. The ceiling was domed, and was capable of opening so Jaegers could be raised out by helicopters and deployed by air. That looked the same as the Shatterdome Crowley was familiar with. Aziraphale waved to technicians passing by them. They walked past the first Jaeger in the bay, an old Mark-One. The head was reminiscent of an old nuclear cooling tower. Unlike most Jaegers, the Conn-Pod was locked into the barreled chest of the mechanized suit. Crowley remembered vaguely this was a feature later abandoned because it prevented escape. The body was thick, the joints at the wrists, elbows, and knees were just as bulky as the body. The hands were heavy and rectangular, favouring power over dexterity. Crowley knew from seeing Mark Ones in action, it was a slower moving machine, and all the weight put a lot of power behind its punches. In front of the Jaeger a team of technicians were on scaffolding surrounding the machine, working on repairs, sparks flying from welding torches. 

Nearby, watching the repairs were an older pair, pilots Crowley recognized by reputation. Sargent Shadwell had been in the Air Force before joining the PADC. He was an older, surly looking man, examining a map on the wall. His co-pilot was a psychologist who had been recruited to help develop the Pons System, the neural bridge that allowed Jaeger pilots to connect to their machines and copilots. She had bright red hair, thin eyebrows, and heavily rouged cheeks. Shadwell had been one of the earliest test subjects, and their partnership was the third ever successful drift between two people. Crowley stared at them, amazed.

“Ah, have you met Sargent Shadwell and Dr. Tracey? They were stationed in Greenland, defending the Norwegian and Labrador seas for nearly a decade. They were decommissioned for a year in the middle, mind you, while shielding was added to Vagrant Witch to protect against the nuclear core,” Aziraphale waived and Dr. Tracy, who was looking over at them, wiggling his fingers while he did so. She waved back, and elbowed Shadwell, who gave her a dirty look. She smiled at him as he did so, and if Crowley were to believe his eyes, she fluttered her eyelashes at him as he called her Jezebel. 

His Scottish accent was most apparent as he asked, “What do you want, you southern pansy?” to Aziraphale, who just smiled tranquilly in response. Crowley stiffened and leaned forward, prepared to say something, and he felt Aziraphale lightly touch his arm. He turned to look at him, only to get a disapproving look.

“Have you met Crowley - Anthony J. Crowley, our pilot for Eden Tango?” He asked politely. Dr. Tracy shook her head and held out one hand to shake Crowley’s. Her hand was soft, surprising Crowley. She smelled vaguely of lavender and roses, perfume wasn’t a luxury many could afford these days. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said, “we’re so grateful you chose to come back, isn’t that right Mr. Shadwell?” she asked, looking over her shoulder. He shrugged, and her smile turned into a scowl to rival his. “Now is that any way to talk to a fellow pilot?” 

He huffed, then came forward, holding out his hand and Crowley took it, “I’ve seen the footage of the fight you were involved in, with Bull Assassin, fighting Meatstriker along the coast of Morocco. You’re fast,” he said, and Crowley nodded. As he withdrew his hand, Shadwell continued, “You’re very flash in how you fight, mind you. We don’t need flash, we need someone who can stop the Kaiju from interrupting Adam and Pepper when they in to destroy the Breach.”

Crowley smiled, putting every ounce of charm he could into it, and said, “I’m sure things will go just fine, as long as you can keep up with me.”

Shadwell prepared himself for a reply, but was cut off by Dr. Tracy putting an arm on his shoulder. Aziraphale’s smile stopped at his mouth, the rest of his face frozen in social discomfort. He looked between the two men. “I’m so sorry, I’m sure we can continue this later, but I need to show Crowley around to the rest of the Shatterdome.”

They passed by another Jaeger, this one black and white, more modern looking, a Mark-Four Crowley noted. Its pilots were nowhere to be seen. “Nature Echo,” Aziraphale explained, “piloted by Wensleydale and Brian. They’re really quite skilled pilots. Unfortunately they have the messiest track record,” Aziraphale sniffed, “there was a great deal of Kaiju blood that contaminated the shores of Puerto Rico. It’s a sore spot,” Azirphale cautioned, “It’s not something they like brought up.”

“Shouldn’t they have been using bludgeoning, or cauterizing weapons?” Crowley asked staring up at the Jaeger, sleek lines and dexterous hands contrasting with the Mark-One he’d just examined. The Conn-Podd was in the head, as with the Mark-Three he’d piloted. The absence of the nuclear core was what struck Crowley as most noticeable. They’d managed to power these machines without needing a small nuclear power station in the center. This model was larger than Eden Tango, though it was more narrow. The metal covering the mechanics was painted white, and the joints and what mechanical components showed through the armor were painted black. The head was alien looking, with a filled in infinity symbol as the observation glass at the front of the Conn-Pod; the top was rounded, contrasting again with the flat top of Vagrant Witch.

“They’re all barely past twenty, this set of pilots,” Aziraphale continued, “Including Adam Young and Pepper Moonchild,” Crowley looked over at Aziraphale with a wide grin.

“Moonchild?” Crowley said gleefully with a wicked smile. “Ah - she has such a strong reaction to her last name, you know, I wouldn’t recommend teasing her about it. The Marshal has broken protocol for the younger pilots,” Aziraphale explained, “they all go by first names in solidarity with Pepper,” Aziraphale smiled brightly, "except Wensleydale, he's very much known by his last name alone. He's much like you in that regard."

Crowley just raised his eyebrows and asked skeptically, “And the PADC was fine with that? Militaristic organization that it is, just fine with insisting on a breach of protocol?” 

They continued walking as Aziraphale explained. “Well, you see, they were the strongest candidates by far. The Marshal has had no reason to regret choosing them as pilots. Pepper and Adam once stayed in a drift for over 15 hours - the longest on record! Drift compatibility isn’t as common as we’d like. She thought it was a small price to pay for such strong pilots.”

Crowley continued to look skeptical as they walked on toward the next Jaeger. This one was painted mottled brown and black. It was very similar to the Jaeger they’d just looked at, though its fists and arms were larger. It had heavier armor and larger feet. Crowley saw two men lounging near the feet, and hissed to Aziraphale, “Oh shit, I forgot they’d be stationed here.”

Aziraphale looked over at the pilots and sighed. “Yes, you went through training with them, didn’t you?” He didn’t wave or make any move to greet the two men. Instead he sped up his walk slightly, hurrying along past the Jaeger.

Crowley followed suit and said, “Unfortunately. I thought their disregard for casualties would have kept them from actually getting a Jaeger of their own. That and their remarkable stupidity.”

Aziraphale looked over his shoulder, then around him before saying, “Hastur and Ligur weren’t chosen by Marshal Nutter. They were chosen by the head of the Miami Shatterdome, who as I understand it, is now working on the Wall of Life.”

Crowley avoided looking at them, in case one of them made eye contact and said, “Followed up one bright idea with another, haven’t they?”

The next Jaeger was the largest Crowley had seen. It had sleek lines, painted a dull red, and Crowley could see the faint outlines of missile bays in its chest. It had small wings jutting out of the shoulders, a narrow head, and a narrow body. 

“Red Hound. The only Mark-five ever built,” Aziraphale said as they stopped to look at the mechanical wonder, “it’s the fastest Jaeger in the world.”

“And my job will be to make sure it makes it to the breach?” Crowley asked, staring at the heavily armored Jaeger. Two young people, a light haired man dressed in blue jeans and a white shirt and a young black woman with her long hair pulled back, dressed in dark pants and a red jacket, stood by the foot of the machine. A small black and white dog, some kind of terrier, slept in a bed nearby. From the gray on its snout Crowley could tell it was an older dog. The two young people were laughing at some unheard joke. They turned, seeing Crowley and his companion, and waved. 

“Aziraphale, is this our new old pilot?” the young man asked, approaching the two of them. The woman followed after giving the dog a quick pet. It looked up from its bed with curiosity, then lay its head back down. 

“Pepper,” she said, holding out her hand. Crowley took it, and she shook it firmly. 

“Crowley,” he replied, then took the man’s offered hand, who simply said, “Adam.”

“So you two are going to destroy the breach?” Crowley asked conspiratorially. Adam smiled widely at him and nodded. Pepper nodded along, looking Crowley up and down, eyes stopping at his sunglasses. Aziraphale nodded towards the final Jaeger, the one Crowley had yet to examine.

“Shall we take a look at Eden Tango?”

Crowley nodded, sliding his sunglasses further up the bridge of his nose. He waved goodbye to the pair of pilots, who waved back in sync. Aziraphale walked along with him as he got a good view at his restored Jaeger. The bright green paint remained, the blue glass of the front of the Conn-Pod complimenting the armor’s colouring. Its shoulders were broader than any of the Jaeger’s they’d looked at before, barring Vagrant Witch. He stood, staring at it for a long time, and Aziraphale stood beside him silently. He cleared his throat and said, “Right, that’s her. What else is on your list of places to visit?”

“For now? It’s your choice. We can grab lunch in the canteen, or I can introduce you to the science division,” Aziraphale replied.

“Let’s do lunch first,” Crowley suggested, hoping Aziraphale hadn’t changed too much since they’d been in school. Aziraphale smiled a loose smile, and Crowley felt something in his chest tighten. 

“Lunch it is then!” Aziraphale said, then headed out of the Jaeger bay through a different door they had come in, avoiding walking past Hastur and Ligur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 There were a number of migrants who left coastal countries to move to inland Poland. Getting to know them had really helped expand Crowley’s vocabulary when it came to swearing. [return to text]
> 
> 2 Destroying the breach had been tried in the past with no success. Crowley knew that. Marshal Nutter knew this. So the question Crowley found himself pondering was: what has changed? [return to text]
> 
> 3 While England had resorted to austerity, a strong contingent pushed for and continues to push for nationalizing industries to return to the days of universal health coverage. [return to text]
> 
> 4 Many would be embarrassed, sharing such details with a sibling. Sexual shame was never something either of the siblings had endured for long, finding it a waste of time and effort. Instead, had they teased each other mercilessly about what they saw in the drift. [return to text]
> 
> 5 Outside of his dream, Crowley began to move, his head turning uncomfortably into his seat. He was mumbling under his breath as he spoke to Lilith in his dream. He’d have been embarrassed to know that Marshal Nutter’s eyes softened with compassion before she shook herself out of it and began making notes about whether it would be necessary for a psychologist to check if Crowley was fit to serve. But Crowley was unaware of all of this, because he was sleeping. [return to text]
> 
> 6 Crowley had many, many thoughts on Aziraphale’s siblings. None of them were very nice, but then again, neither were Aziraphale’s older siblings. [return to text]
> 
> 7 Crowley owned more pairs than he cared to admit, and had them stashed all over in case of emergencies. [return to text]


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank my husband and my good friend Booksnchocolate for beta reading for me.
> 
> CN: Negative Body Talk

The canteen was large, with long rows of tables with benches, flanked by the serving station on the left and bare walls to the right. To one side of the room was a serving station, where a small line up of people were gathered, waiting for food. Along the wall across from the serving station were a flight of metal stairs, leading up to a second seating area with steel floors and railings. There were two doors into the dining hall, the walls around them bare. Above each large truncated square entranceway was the PADC logo. The room looked almost identical to the one Crowley had eaten in when he was stationed in Lisbon. 

Aziraphale lead Crowley over to the line, picking up a tray. The food was simple, rice and chicken with a pile of brunoise vegetables but it was still better than what he could get with a rations card in Poland. He saw the food services worker wink at Aziraphale, and slide some extra chicken onto his plate. Aziraphale smiled brightly, and winked ostentatiously back, then he continued on towards the tables. Crowley followed, and saw Aziraphale was making his way towards two young men. One of them was wearing glasses, sitting straight backed and eating his food in small bites. He chewed his food thoroughly before swallowing. His companion ate much more messily, shoveling huge bites into his mouth, barely chewing before swallowing. Aziraphale waved when they got close, and they both slid over to make room at their bench. Crowley sat next to the neat eater, sitting uncomfortably straight on the backless bench. There was no room to sprawl, the benches too spartan for any relaxation.

“Crowley, meet Wensleydale and Brian, pilots of Nature Echo,” Aziraphale said, gesturing to the two young men. They both beamed at Crowley and he suddenly felt very old. 

“Have you met Pepper and Adam yet?” Brian asked and Crowley nodded.

“Did you all meet during training?” Crowley asked. 

“Oh, no. We all grew up together, in Tadfield. We’ve been friends forever,” Brian explained.

Wensleydale leaned forward and said, “We weren’t sure while in training who would be paired with who until the end of training. All four of us are all drift compatible. The Marshal once said it’s a shame there wasn’t the chance to build a four person Jaeger.”

“I’m happy with how things turned out though,” Brian said smiling at his co-pilot. “Pepper and Adam are fantastic pilots but they can be intense.”

Wensleydale nodded in agreement, and Crowley took a bite of his lunch. It was bland, but that hardly surprised him given its dull appearance. He looked over at Aziraphale and saw he ate just as slowly as he had when they were in school. Crowley schooled a smile off of his face and looked back down at his food. 

“Do you know who your co-pilot will be yet?” Brian asked and Crowley shook his head. He swallowed a bite, then said, “They’re doing the tests tomorrow. Aziraphale,” Crowley nodded toward the blond man, “has apparently picked out a bunch of winners for me.”

“There’s no need to be rude,” Aziraphale said curtly, “They’re good candidates! All of them have proper training and have been screened for compatibility.”

Crowley sighed. “There’s more to it than that. You’d know that if you’d ever drifted.”

Aziraphale looked down at his food, a series of emotions crossing his face before settling on something a lot like disappointment. Wensleydale and Brian exchanged worried looks, before Wensleydale said, “He has drifted before - just not successfully.”

Crowley raised his eyebrows at this, and looked at Aziraphale expectantly. Aziraphale’s shoulders fell and he said, “Well, you’ve met my siblings. You should be able to understand why none of us, in any combination, succeeded at drifting together. It was especially - catastrophic - when the combinations involved my mind.” [8]

Aziraphale’s eyes wouldn’t meet his, and his tight smile had returned. Brian patted his shoulder sympathetically. Crowley cleared his throat and said, “I didn’t realize you got to that stage.”

“No, I don’t suppose you would have,” Aziraphale said, “You were a pilot, you were busy.”

“Did you know each other in training?” Wensleydale asked, nearly finished with his meal. Across from him, Brian had a clear plate. 

“No -” “We know - ” Aziraphale and Crowley both began to explain, then stopped and looked at each other. Crowley gestured with his hand for Aziraphale to continue.

“We knew each other in our school days. We met in year six,” Aziraphale explained. “We met because, well, you see, there was a rather infamous vegetable garden near the school and -” Crowley cut Aziraphale off.

“We met in year six. I took a few gap years after my A-levels then joined the PADC. Aziraphale went off to study at Uni. He entered the Jaeger Academy right as I was leaving.” 

Aziraphale pouted slightly at being cut off and Crowley did allow himself to grin this time. Wensleydale fidgeted with his cutlery, his plate now clean. He asked, “Are you on the list for tomorrow? Since you know each other?”

Aziraphale shook his head, and said, “I haven’t really, well, kept up with many of the requirements to be a pilot since I stopped training. I keep the level of fitness required to be an active member of the PADC, but I certainly don’t spend hours upon hours practicing martial arts anymore. Besides, just look at me - I’m hardly pilot material.”

Brian and Wensleydale both began protests, and Crowley spoke over them saying, “What about how you look? Recent practice shouldn’t matter - I haven’t done anything of that sort in the last five years.”

Aziraphale looked at him and said angrily, “I know what I look like. You shouldn’t need me to spell it out for you.” 

When Crowley said nothing in response, Aziraphale sighed and turned back to his food, with a lackluster attitude. Wensleydale looked at Brian, who suddenly said, “We’ve got to get some training in this afternoon. When we hear when your compatibility sessions are, we’ll come say hello.” 

The two took their trays and left Crowley and Aziraphale sitting in silence. Aziraphale continued to focus on his food. Crowley ate quickly, barely chewing his food. Once he finished eating he watched Aziraphale. Aziraphale continued to eat on in silence, slowly. Crowley felt nostalgic, thinking back to sharing lunches in their school days. As he stared, he thought about Aziraphale’s response to his question earlier, and then an idea came to him suddenly.

“This isn’t about your weight is it? Because you can still fight if you’re meeting the basic cardio and strength requirements,” Crowley said, “and drift compatibility is more important than anything else.”

“I’m hardly an expert when it comes to the martial arts. I’ve just dabbled here and there over the years,” Aziraphale said, “and being able to fight physically is important for guiding the Jaeger through a battle.”

“You spent ages twelve through seventeen - possibly longer, I don’t actually know when you stopped - doing renaissance fencing with a saber,” Crowley said. “Surely you’ve got some muscle memory from all that and training at Jaeger Academy. Anyway you didn’t answer my question: do you think you can’t be my co-pilot because you don’t look like the ideal pilot sold through propaganda posters?”

Aziraphale looked over at Crowley sharply, red rising through his features and said, “Look it’s hardly a secret that Marshal Nutter has to sign a form from medical because I’m not within the BMI requirements.”

“Again, Aziraphale,” Crowley said, “shared memories make the drift easier - and we have plenty of those.”

“It won’t work. I’m not fit to drift with someone else,” Aziraphale said flatly.

“Just because you tried drifting with assholes -” Crowley began only to be cut off.

“I won’t talk about this anymore. I’ve chosen candidates for you, and I’m not one of them.”

Crowley held up both his hands in a pacifying gesture and said, “Alright, alright. We don’t have to talk about this.”

Aziraphale took a deep breath, and slowly released it. He turned his head slightly, then turned back to look at Crowley.

“Let me finish lunch, then we can visit the science division. What’s left of it, that is.”

K-Science Division looked a lot like the rest of the base, cement and steel everywhere. It was one large room, with a wall of computers, monitors, and a holographic image projector on one side. The other side was a tidy sort of chaos, Kaiju body parts in large jars spread across one wall, a double-sided white board with complex diagrams and notes next to a workbench. A dark haired man with black flat-top glasses sat at the table, scalpel in hand, dissecting what looked like a piece of a Kaiju’s tongue. Across from him, in long skirts and a high necked blouse was a woman with long brown hair, wearing tortoiseshell circular glasses, typing away at a computer. She looked over at them as they entered, and smiled warmly at Aziraphale. 

“You’ve brought the Mark-Three pilot, have you?” she asked as she walked over. She detoured from them to the man at the desk, and touched his shoulder gently. He looked up from what he was doing in surprise, then over at the pair who had just arrived. She quietly said, “Newton, we have company,” and he put his scalpel down and placed his work in a jar in front of him. He pulled off his gloves and threw them away, joining the woman as she held out her hand.

“Anathema Device, I specialize in engineering and abstract mathematics,” she said shaking Crowley’s hand firmly, “and over here is my partner Newton Pulcifer.”[9]

Newton shook Crowley’s hand. It was a damp, shaky sort of handshake. His eyes skittered across Crowley’s face, then he said, “A pleasure to meet you, I’ve had the pleasure of dissecting pieces of Scythefist.”

Crowley could see Anathema sigh out of the corner of her eye, and he said, “I’m sure it was very interesting.”

Newton, not catching the sarcasm in Crowley’s voice, excitedly explained, “The talons, the sharp ends to its arms and tail - they were made of silicone carbide - which is amazing to see in a living creature -”

He stopped himself then, looking embarrassed. “I suppose that’s not the sort of thing you want to hear about.”

“I’d really rather not,” Crowley confirmed. He looked over at the wall of screens and asked, “What are those for? Predicting when Kaiju will come through the breach?”

“Yes, and if my calculations are correct we are due for a dual event in four days,” Anathema confirmed, and Crowley started visibly at the information.

“Two.”

“And if you fight them, could you please try not to smash their brains in,” Newton asked, and Anathema shook her head at him.

“We have been over this,” she said firmly. “There is no way you are getting a full brain to drift with. You cannot drift with a Kaiju, the danger is too great.”

Newton smiled in a pacifying way, that left Crowley unconvinced that he wouldn’t try it. In a jar about as tall as he was, Crowley saw a part of what looked like a Kaiju brain. He suddenly felt sick, imagining what it would be like to let something that horrific into his mind.

“You really shouldn’t try that,” Crowley said. “Letting one of those monsters into your brain to poke about?” he shuddered. 

Newton still looked unconvinced. Crowley looked over at the Kaiju parts across the room and asked, “Have you learned anything good from studying the bodies?”

The scientist burst into life, and began explaining which parts were from which Kaiju. He pointed to two pieces that looked identical and said, “I think they’re clones of one another. Well, clones with improvements made each time. That’s why they always seem to get better and better at fighting the Jaegers - it’s an arms race. Ours is mechanical, theirs biological.”

“We have no proof of sentience beyond a desire to destroy. They might reproduce asexually,” Anathema said patiently, though with the air of having said it several times before. 

Newton smiled at her and said, “There might be more beyond the breach than just Kaijus. Which I could find out -”

“No.” Anathema pursed her lips together and Newton dropped the topic, instead going back to his evidence of cloning pointing out structural aspects of Kaiju body parts that were identical. He continued on to say, “their DNA also points to cloning. I don’t think they reproduce sexually. They have internal reproductive organs, but no external reproductive organs.”

“Can’t have sex if you don’t have the bits for it,” Crowley said, and Newton smiled widely and said, “Exactly!”

Aziraphale had crossed the room and was looking at a diagram on one of the monitors, “This is the breach, correct? A model of it.”

Anathema hit a few keys, and the diagram opened up on the three-dimensional display. A tube, widening at each end was lit up, lines up and down and across it, each square the same size, illustrated the size. Crowley crossed the room to look at it.

“How is closing it going to work, exactly?”

“I’ll predict an event - I’ve gotten it down to the week and I am working on getting it down to the exact day - we’ll ready the Jaegers nearby, and when it opens.” She hit another few keys and suddenly a sphere appeared on the diagram. As it dropped into the tube, the whole thing collapsed around itself. “We’ll destroy the breach, ending the Kaiju invasion.”

“Assuming all the input data is correct,” Newton said from across the room. He had taken the tongue out again and was back to dissecting it. 

“The data is all we have to work on,” Anathema said, and Crowley got the distinct impression this was not the first time they’d had this argument before.

“You have no faith. Going out on a limb, experimenting - that’s discovery.”

“Evidence acquired, working models, prediction based in numbers - that’s what we need.”

Aziraphale coughed gently, and the two looked over at him; they were both smiling gently.

“Crowley needs some time to settle in before the testing tomorrow,” Aziraphale said politely. Crowley raised his eyebrows at the blond, but said nothing. 

“Of course,” Anathema said, “best of luck tomorrow.”

“Thanks. I’m sure it will be a walk in the park,” Crowley replied, then followed Aziraphale out of the lab. 

Walking back to their rooms, Crowley kept pace with Aziraphale in silence. When they reached the hall with their rooms, Crowley turned to him and said, “You don’t think the plan will work, do you?”

Aziraphale startled, and looked back at Crowley, and flashed a quick smile that ended before it reached his eyes. “Of course I believe it will work.”

“Liar,” Crowley said, “You’re up to your eyeballs in doubt.”

“I - it’s just - the thing is, well,” Aziraphale stuttered, “It’s, well, the unknown. It’s unknowable. We won’t know if it will or won’t work until we do it, and if it doesn’t it will be too late to do anything else about it. I want to believe it will work. I pray it will work. That has to be enough.”

Crowley raised his eyebrows when he heard Aziraphale mention prayer.

“Don’t give me that look,” Aziraphale said, “I don’t expect you to understand.”

Crowley felt an old wound reopen as Aziraphale spoke. He pushed the hurt down as he said, “I don’t like to think there’s some grand plan for everyone,” Crowley shrugged and looked away, “For all we know - or at the very least as far as the bible would be concerned - they’re as much god’s creatures as we are. Where’s the evidence that we’re meant to survive this?” 

“I guess it’s all very hypothetical to you - a question of philosophy, not faith,” Aziraphale said defensively.

“Oh, I believe there’s a God. But, either God let go of the reigns of earth a long, long time ago, or they’re a small child setting fire to ants just to see them burn,” Crowley said angrily, looking Aziraphale in the face. 

“Some of us find comfort in our faith,” Aziraphale shot back.

“There are some things there is no comfort for,” Crowley said stopping short, then looked to the ground.

Aziraphale looked at him curiously and blinked a few times. He reached out and touched Crowley’s arm, his hand warm through Crowley’s shirt.

“I’m sorry - we both have changed, since we were young. I forgot that," Aziraphale said. 

Crowley looked at his arm where it met Aziraphale’s hand, and Aziraphale withdrew his hand. Crowley leaned forward following the touch, then pulled himself back and looked back up at Aziraphale’s face. 

"We both have changed," Crowley agreed, then cleared his throat, "I'm far more attractive, for one thing," he said with a wink. 

Aziraphale adjusted his jacket colour rising to his cheeks, “Well, you - that is - yes. I’ll see you tomorrow. The rest of the day is yours to do with as you please.”

Crowley nodded, then gestured behind him, towards his room and said, “I think I might take a nap.”

Aziraphale smiled and nodded, “Alright, I’ll come by your room to collect you before we start the testing tomorrow. I’ll just be off now,” Aziraphale said, gesturing down the hall behind him, “I have some last minute things to finish up.”

“See you tomorrow,” Crowley said, and watched Aziraphale as he turned around and walked down the hall. He stayed in the hall for a moment after the other man had left, staring at nothing. He closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath. Then he turned towards his room and headed in. He grabbed a pile of photographs from his suitcase, and lay on his bed sorting through them until he found the one he wanted. It was of him and Aziraphale when they were sixteen. Crowley had his head on Aziraphale's shoulder, eyes closed. Aziraphale was asleep with his head bent back at an awkward angle. They had gotten drunk on his father’s wine, and Lilith had come home and found them asleep on the couch. She’d taken a photo with her new digital camera. 

He continued to sort through old photographs until night came. He considered going back to the canteen for dinner, but found he didn’t have an appetite. Instead, he found one of the meal replacement bars he’d brought with him and ate it listlessly. Afterward, he lay back down on his bed and waited for sleep to come. His sleep, when it found him, was dreamless. 

Crowley stood in the center of the mats in the Kwoon combat room, frustrated and sweating through his thin, black undershirt. He held a long pole in one hand, staring at yet another stranger approaching with their own pole, ready for combat. He had won and lost the bouts so far in equal measure, but he knew winning and losing were not the metrics important to these tests. All those he fought were good fighters, but none of them could develop a healthy back and forth. Every fight was missing what he’d had with Lilith; there was no conversation between their bodies, he couldn’t get a great read on those he fought and from how they responded to his movements, they were having difficulty predicting what he’d choose to do as well. 

“This isn’t working Marshall,” he said, looking over at the Marshal, who stood to one side of the room with Aziraphale.

“You have ten more possible candidates,” Marshal Nutter replied, “we may yet find someone compatible.”

Crowley shook his head and said, “I doubt it.”

Aziraphale stiffened, looking at him hand poised to take notes. Crowley smiled a sharp smile at him, and saw his grasp on his pen tighten.

“Do you have any better ideas, Mr. Crowley,” Marshal Nutter asked, looking back and forth between Aziraphale and Crowley. 

“Let Aziraphale have a go,” he replied spinning his pole lazily, “he’s gone through enough of the training hasn’t he?”

The Marshal looked at Aziraphale for a moment, no emotion on her face, then said, “Aziraphale, what are your success rates when it comes to simulations?”

“I haven’t done one in at least two years -” Aziraphale replied,

“What were your success rates, then. Humor me,” the Marshal insisted. 

“20 drops, 20 kills,” Aziraphale replied, eyes skipping over her face in favour of the wall behind her, “though I dare say, you know that already.”

“That’s right. I just needed to remind you,” Marshal Nutter replied, then gestured with one hand towards Crowley, “He’s waiting. We don’t have all day.”

Aziraphale gave the Marshal one last desperate look, to which she just smiled serenely. He shook his head, taking off his tan jacket. He unbuttoned the white shirt underneath, revealing a white undershirt. He folded the jacket and shirt, then placed them gently on the floor before walking to the side of the room the staffs were kept, and picked one up. It, like all the poles lined against the wall, was nearly as tall as he was. He walked to the center of the room and chose a position, holding the pole below his waist, hands apart on the wooden weapon. 

"Aziraphale," the Marshal called out.

"Yes, ma'am?" 

"I expect to see your best, do you understand me? No sneaking out of this through the path of least resistance."

"Yes ma'am," Aziraphale responded. Crowley grinned widely and Aziraphale glared at him. 

"I thought I told you we weren't doing this?" Aziraphale asked quiet and angry. 

"I'm a liar, you said it yourself," Crowley replied, readying himself, holding his staff close to his chest, hands in a similar position to Aziraphale’s. 

The Marshal called out for them to start, and Crowley twirled his staff cinematically, then struck. Aziraphale blocked it, and they continued trading blows back and forth until Crowley managed to find an opening, stopping his staff right against the side of Aziraphale’s neck. 

"One, Zero," called out the Marshall. 

"You said you'd try," Crowley said, barely above a whisper.

Aziraphale's face clouded over with anger as he said, "I am."

"It doesn't look like it," Crowley replied. 

"Start," Marshal Nutter yelled. 

This time Aziraphale struck out first, quicker than he had been before. Crowley focused on keeping up with the blows falling, and he began to smile. He saw the pattern Aziraphale was falling into, and made a move to change it. Aziraphale changed with him, continuing his fast assault until he stopped, his staff pressed against Crowley's ribs. 

"One, One," the Marshal called out, and Crowley smiled through his heavy breathing. Aziraphale looked surprised, eyes wide as he stared at where his staff hovered over the side of Crowley's chest. 

Crowley pulled himself back and got into a new ready position. This time each hand was a third in from each end of the staff, one palm face up, one palm face down. Aziraphale mirrored Crowley’s body, holding his staff the same way. Crowley turned his body, swinging the end of the staff towards Aziraphale, who blocked with his own pole then ducked as Crowley rammed the end of his staff towards him. Aziraphale raised his staff to block Crowley’s, then Crowley pushed all his weight down on his pole, pressing Aziraphale’s to the ground. He followed this up with a quick swing, stopping beside Aziraphale’s head. 

“Two, One,” Marshal Nutter announced, and Crowley looked over at her. She had a pleased smile on her face, and she had picked up Aziraphale’s notes at some point and was writing something down.

Aziraphale readied himself, taking a position much like his first. Crowley responded in kind, and then the Marshal called for them to begin. Their staffs clacked loudly as they made contact. Crowley ducked, avoiding a tight swing from Aziraphale’s staff, then jabbed his own pole out towards the other man, watching as Aziraphale quickly stepped back, then swung his own staff out to knock Crowley’s to the side. They continued on in this fashion as they traded blows quickly, neither of them able to get an advantage over the other. Suddenly, Aziraphale was dropping to the ground, and Crowley had a brief flash of concern before he felt his leg pulled out from underneath him by Aziraphale’s arm. 

He fell, his back hitting the ground hard. Aziraphale levered his staff into Crowley’s leg, and Crowley arched his back as his leg was torqued upwards. Despite the speed with which Aziraphale moved, Crowley still had time to marvel at how warm Aziraphale was where their bodies touched. Crowley was breathing heavily, staring at Aziraphale whose chest rose and fell in time with his own.

“Two, two,” the Marshall announced, and Aziraphale let go of Crowley’s leg. Without the tension of being pulled, Crowley’s back fell hard against the floor.

Crowley grinned at Aziraphale and asked, “Having fun yet?”

Aziraphale looked at indignantly, “This is serious Crowley. It isn’t a joke.”

He turned around, looking at Marshal Nutter and said, “I think whatever point Crowley had hoped to make has been made. May I be dismissed? I’d like to change my clothes,” he wrinkled his nose in disgust, “I’ve worked up quite a sweat.”

“I’ve seen all I need to see. Get changed and report to the drivesuit room when you’re done,” the Marshal replied.

“I - I really must say, Marshal, that I seriously doubt this is going work work!” Aziraphale replied, distress crossing his features.

“I disagree,” Marshal Nutter replied, “You two have shown excellent compatibility.”

Aziraphale nodded weakly at the Marshal, then went to collect his shirt and jacket. As he put them back on, he glared at Crowley, who felt guilt creeping in.

“If Aziraphale really believes it won’t work -” Crowley began, only to be cut off by the Marshal.

“This has been one of the most successful tests I’ve seen,” she said, “Once the drift starts, Aziraphale will see I’m correct in my assessment.”

Aziraphale, now dressed in his shirt, pursed his lips and said nothing. Crowley finally got up off the floor and put his staff away, ignoring the onlookers who had gathered to watch his fight. When he did turn to make his way out of the room, he saw Adam and Pepper, both of whom clapped him on the shoulder as he walked past.

“Congratulations,” Adam said, “Aziraphale really is wasting his potential in the role he’s in now.”

Pepper nodded and said, “You two fought beautifully.”

Crowley nodded at both of them and said, “Thanks. I’d better, uh -” he gestured with his head towards the personal quarters, “you know - get ready.”

He turned and saw Hastur and Ligur towards the back of the crowd. Hastur waved at him, a nasty smile on his lips. Ligur stood behind him, blank faced and staring at Crowley. The red head did his best to pull a charming smile to his own face, gave a little wave, then quickly left, avoiding getting close enough to talk to either man. 

The drivesuit room was identical to the one Crowley remembered - a small room, high up in the Shatterdome. A team of technicians were helping Aziraphale into a drivesuit, and Crowley averted his eyes when he realized he was staring. He’d never seen something that tight on Aziraphale before; ever since their teens, the other man had always covered himself up in layers. He held his arms out once he’d struggled into the under-layer. He could feel the wires in the suit press against his arms as the technicians quickly covered him with black polycarbonate armor. Another technician, one Crowley recognized from Lilith’s memories, knelt in front of him placing the armor around his legs. He looked at them in surprise, and they looked up at him and said, “Good luck today.”

He nodded, wondering if the Marshal knew of their connection, or if the PADC was just that short on staff the Marshal had no choice but to have them as part of the team. Unwanted, his mind brought up images of Lilith kissing them, and he took a series of deep breaths, counting as he did, until the images passed from his mind. He willed his hands still, determined not to bring his sister’s memories into the drift. 

Crowley looked back at Aziraphale, and saw that his team was nearly done covering him in glossy white armor. The black peeked through at his joints where the armor did not overlap. Crowley watched as Aziraphale touched the armor self-consciously as the technicians slotted the spinal clamp into the back of the drivesuit. 

Aziraphale turned to look at Crowley, uncertainty across his features. Crowley smiled, feeling the spinal clamp being inserted into his own drivesuit, and tried his best to project some kind of reassurance to the blond. Aziraphale looked Crowley up and down, then looked away. 

"The most important thing is not to chase the rabbit," Crowley said, "you've done a good number of simulations, you'll be fine when it comes to piloting the Jaeger."

"Oh yes, Random Access Brain Impulse Triggers - when a pilot goes too deep into a trip down memory lane," Aziraphale replied, then took a shaky breath, "I have done a lot of mindfulness meditation over the years - I'm told it helps with letting memories pass by."

"Don't try and hide anything in the drift either," Crowley warned, "it can disrupt the link between our minds. It takes an experienced pilot to keep thoughts at bay without dislodging their mind entirely from their co-pilot’s."

"I will remind you, I did learn this all at the Jaeger Academy," Aziraphale said.

Over the intercom a voice, the chief technician's came through, instructing them to step into the Conn-Pod. 

Eden Tango's Conn-Pod looked different from how Crowley remembered. He reminded himself it must have been fully redone as part of the restoration process. The walls had been white before they were now blue and black. The piloting mechanics had been upgraded into sleeker controls. The bars holding the pedals in place were thinner, and beneath the controls Crowley could see all the mechanical parts. They were stationary now, but once the Conn-Pod dropped and connected to the body of the Jaeger the gears would whir into life. He stepped into the controls, latching his feet into the pedals. Aziraphale watched him step into place, then stepped into his own controls. 

They both put their helmets on, and pulled the cord to connect their suits to the machine and fitted them into place. Crowley took a few deep breaths, and waited for LOCCENT to call for the process to start. 

He heard the Marshal speak over the communications system. 

"Gentlemen, are you ready to begin?" 

"I am," Crowley said. 

Aziraphale cleared his throat, an anxious smile spread across his face and he said, "I suppose so."

"Initiate the Neural Handshake," the Marshal ordered. Crowley could feel a slight tingle spread up from the top of his spine to the crown of his head. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath and suddenly found himself surrounded by images and sounds. 

He is alone and very small, crying outside a hospital room and Gabriel is telling him to be quiet. The scent of antiseptic is overwhelming as he takes in deep breaths to calm himself down and suddenly he’s in a garden breathing slowly, listening to a bumblebee beside his ear. 

The garden Crowley recognized, it’s the one he was sneaking into to nap. There is Aziraphale reading a book and he feels warm in the sun, and suddenly he’s looking at himself sleeping under a tree while he is sleeping under the tree, he still feels warmth but it was different somehow. He leans forward, then feels the memory slide away. 

Quickly, Crowley finds himself sitting in class and the teacher is talking about the Roman invasion of Britain and he’s held rapt with attention while also snoozing at the back of the room and then he slides into apple picking in Poland. He remembered not understanding but it was at odds with the Polish he now knew and the speech in the memory is garbled nonsense. Crowley feels the loneliness bone deep that he'd felt that first year without end, and he feels something else he can’t name but it’s warm. 

The sound of leaves in the wind slide into the sound of the ocean, and he’s playing alone on a beach he’s never seen before and that he’s been to many times. Off in the distance are a gaggle of kids - Aziraphale's brothers and sisters. He looks down at the odd collection of rocks and shells he’s collected from the shore and wonders at the beauty God put in the world. The feeling of wonderment slide into another moment of wonder. He looks around, he's with a stranger and he knows him and they're in an old building. Crowley feels drunk and sees they’s in a lecture hall and suddenly the strange man he knows well is kissing him and there's that feeling of wonder again. 

Just as suddenly as the wonder came, it leaves and he finds himself sitting next to Lilith as she’s talking loudly about the adventures his toy snake will go on, his parents start yelling in the background and Lilith speaks even louder. 

The loud voice morphs into traffic sounds and he is driving Aziraphale to the park, he had just got his license and they are still friends. He turns to smile at Aziraphale and sees himself smiling back. He feels warm again and then he feels ice dumped over him and he’s shaking as he sees himself, shoulders dropping, eyes averted and he feels his heart pounding in his too tight chest. Aziraphale is telling him he means it, he can’t talk to him anymore. Crowley feels like he might vomit, his stomach is so tight and his chest will not stop hurting as though it is hurting twice over. His hands are shaking, and they never shook - and they hadn’t shook, he remembered that - and yet they are shaking now. He feels guilt and the hot pain of shame as he looks at himself. His breath is coming fast, he is turning away from himself while he is staring at Aziraphale. He is walking away and he can’t catch his breath.

The scent of salt water rises again and he’s breathing hard and so is Lilith as she’s being pulled out of the Jaeger and he’s alone again. Yet he’s not alone, he can feel thoughts that aren’t his own pulling him away from the image of Lilith falling. Instead of looking down and watching her he turns away and sees -

Crowley looked around the inside of the Conn-Pod. The blue holographic displays were showing the status of Eden Tango. Aziraphale was standing next to him, breathing heavily and looking at his feet. The external sensors were off, so the glass front of the Conn-Pod was unobstructed and he could see out into the rest of the Shatterdome. 

He heard over the intercom the chief technician confirming the success of their drift. Off to the side of his thoughts were Aziraphale's - the main thing Crowley was getting from him was a sense of shock. There was a wordless sense of wonder and surprise snuggled up next to his own smug pride at being right about their compatibility. 

Crowley raised his left arm, and he could feel through the drift the arm of the Jaeger lift along with it. He clenched his fist, watching the display screen to his left and saw the model of the Jaeger do the same. The shock in his mind was shifting into another emotion, this one sharp where the wonder was soft. A hot feeling crept up through the back of his mind and loudly stomped its way through to the forefront of his thoughts. 

Crowley turned to look at Aziraphale who was frowning down at his own feet. His hand along with the Jaeger’s hand was clenched. He was breathing slowly, his eyes unfocused as he stared in front of him. Crowley felt his own eyes start to glaze over as a strong memory slid in front of his eyes.

He could see Gabriel in his twenties glaring at Aziraphale. Unlike the previous memories where it was unclear whose memory Crowley was in, this time he was standing outside the memory. Aziraphale was young, his eyes were on the ground and his hands were shaking slightly. In the memory, Crowley stepped closer, instinctively wanting to somehow comfort Aziraphale, but Aziraphale did not look over, and did not seem aware that Crowley was even there. They were in the front room of the flat Aziraphale shared with his eldest brother. 

“Look, you need to end things with him. I don’t want to hear any more lies about what you two get up to,” Gabriel sneered, “If you cut things off now we can arrange some sort of counselling and you can just forget this ever happened.”

Crowley was aware both of the memory, and of a physical shaking taking place outside in the Jaeger. Aziraphale stood there, hands shaking Crowley said loudly, “Don’t listen to that idiot.”

Aziraphale continued on as though Crowley were not in the room. He nodded slowly, and Crowley walked closer and said, “You don’t have to do whatever it is he wants you to.”

“I - I’ll do it tomorrow,” Aziraphale said, his voice quiet. 

“You need to snap out of this, you’re chasing the rabbit - if you don’t we’re going to be disconnected manually,” Crowley warned, and again there was no response. Instead Aziraphale sniffled, and Gabriel looked down at him and said, “You need to pull yourself together. It’s this kind of emotional shit that got you into trouble in the first place.”

“This isn’t real!” he walked up to Aziraphale and then found himself standing in the Conn-Pod, his mind alone again. Aziraphale was beside him unlatching himself from the foot pedals.

“I told you this wouldn’t work,” Aziraphale said sourly. 

“We can try a second time. It can take practice,” Crowley replied.

Crowley watched as Aziraphel headed towards the exit of the Jaeger.

“I don’t think so. Gabriel was right about some things. I’m just not suited for this,” Aziraphale said then walked out onto the shoulder of the Jaeger, closing the hatch behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 8 Catastrophic, here, is used as an understatement. Drifting relies on trust, openness and compatibility. Distrust, secrets, and differences all make for a rather spectacular headache at best as both parties reject the other’s mind. What Aziraphale experienced was less rejection and more full out war between his mind and those of his siblings. [return to text]
> 
> 9 Partner here can mean a number of things. It could simply mean a pair of people engaged in the same activity. It could mean Newton is her colleague and fellow scientist who has forsaken all else to be at the Shatterdome at the end of days to try and save humanity. It can also mean her romantic partner. Anathema meant it in all senses of the word. Newton had been her partner ever since day one, as far as she was concerned. He might have been slow on the uptake, but that’s a story for another time. [return to text]


End file.
